


shake this shadow land

by sabinelagrande



Series: Desperation Song [1]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Infidelity, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-26
Updated: 2011-09-26
Packaged: 2017-10-24 01:34:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/257403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life with Magneto goes on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	shake this shadow land

It isn't easy, life with Magneto, not as easy as she thought it would be. Charles is doubtlessly at his mansion, the mansion that used to be her home, licking his wounds and training his students; with Magneto, they have to make do with a few simple apartments, scattered here and there. There are Shaw's accounts, all of which Emma gets them access to, but they're quick to discover that, after building his yacht and his ridiculous submarine, the bastard was practically insolvent.

"Who needs to pay bills when you're waiting on Ragnarok?" Emma quips, crossing her long legs for Magneto's benefit; he ignores her as usual, his hand on Mystique's, but Emma barely even seems to mind. Mystique hardly does either; one doesn't frown on a tiger for hunting. Besides, Magneto doesn't like to see them fight each other. Mystique is just as much a pet to him as she was to Charles; he likes her by his side, quiet and intimidating, ready to strike only at his whim.

Azazel brings home money; Magneto always demands to know exactly where it's from, how much he took, if he was seen. The first time, it's money from someone's pocket, and Mystique has never seen Magneto as furious as he was in that moment. He almost literally brought the house down on Azazel's head; now that Magneto's had time to learn all of Azazel's tricks, it isn't so easy just to disappear and reappear at his leisure.

Azazel keeps it on the straight and narrow now, or as near as he cares to, taking from bank vaults and corporate offices; Magneto still hates it, but that doesn't stop him from spending it as quickly as it comes in.

She sleeps in Magneto's bed now, most nights; it doesn't make much of a difference, because Magneto doesn't sleep. Every now and again, he comes in and makes love to her; he's as aloof as he ever is, holding her like he thinks he'll hurt her. Mystique wouldn't mind if he did, as long as it would take that look off his face, the one he always has when they're finished, the one where he looks like he's sorry for what he's done.

That's life with Magneto, who hasn't quite gotten the bad guy thing down yet, but even for all his detachment, she's closer to him than anyone else. Angel is always ten minutes from leaving, never sure if she wants to go back to Charles or just back to stripping. Riptide just never says anything; he's just quiet, not contemplative, because when he does open his mouth he usually sounds like a sixteen year old boy. And, of course, she and Emma are at their best when they ignore each other completely.

That only leaves her with Azazel, Azazel who she's still figuring out, Azazel who she's fairly certain she still hates. Magneto has a mission and will do bad things to accomplish it; Azazel is joyfully evil and doesn't care who knows it. There's something safe about that, the way that he hides nothing.

Emma and Magneto are gone one afternoon; he's got business that he doesn't want to let her in on, which has gotten to be such a regular occurrence that it doesn't even bother her anymore. She's idly trying to pick a new color for her toenails when Azazel appears in her room, relaxing in her chair.

She has a momentary panic over being caught naked in her bedroom, even though she hasn't worn anything but blue skin in months, but she smooths over it, putting on the mask of indifference that Magneto has taught her to wear. "Don't you ever knock?"

"Where would I?" he points out, his tail curling into a lazy question mark. "Banging on your walls would simply be eerie, no?"

She ignores him. "Shouldn't you be out furthering the cause of mutantkind?"

"Ahh, but you see, my pet," he says, standing and pacing around her room theatrically, "I am not a mutant."

Mystique looks at him. "You're bright red."

He smiles, his teeth stark white between his lips. "I am clearly not a human, either."

"What are you, then?"

"An anarchist," he says, holding his arms out and giving a little bow. Mystique rolls her eyes, but she laughs, too; his smile widens.

At least someone around here is good company.

The days tick on, one by one. Angel really does leave, finally; Mystique hopes she's just gone back to dancing, because Charles is as likely as not to wipe her mind clean and send her away. Everyone else is just gone all the time, leaving her behind to sit and Azazel to pay the bills.

And when she finally sleeps with Azazel, it's not anything like making love. He throws his head back and laughs as she rides him, and her smile feels about three feet wide. It's not about getting back at Magneto, except for the part where it is; that part is forgotten when he reaches up with his deadly tail and strokes her face oh so lightly with it, looking at her like she's the only thing he can see.

A month later, and she's barely cleaned herself up when there's a knock at her door; Azazel is gone in a flash. She waits until the red mist has dissipated before answering. It's Magneto; he's smiling as much as he ever does, and he has news.

One of Emma's old friends, a retired general with a thing for younger- _much_ younger- women, happens to wind up putting a bullet in his head just after signing a new will leaving everything to Emma, including his country home. She and Magneto and Riptide have been working on it, fixing the place up a little, where a little means adding steel and concrete walls, an underground bunker, and half a dozen defense systems. Everyone is there; they're simply waiting for her to join them.

As they join hands to travel, Azazel laces his fingers into hers, squeezing just so, and then they're off.

The place is solitary and dangerous-looking; Magneto puts his arm around her waist, gesturing to his fortress. "Our new home," he says, and his voice is proud and solid, the way it only ever is when he's talking about his grand vision.

She thinks about the baby growing inside of her, wonders what color it will be, whether it'll be mutant or human or so much more; she lets Magneto lead her, installing her in her new cage.


End file.
